A Draught of Cool Water
by Keelywolfe
Summary: In the comic, Morpheus imprisons an old lover of his in Hell for spurning him. It would only be polite to stop and chat with ruler of Hell before he leaves, wouldn't it?


Title: A Draught of Cool Water  
Author: Keelywolfe  
Web Page: http://www.ravenswing.com/keelywolfe/  
Fandom: Sandman  
Rating: PG  
Email: Keelywolfe@aol.com   
  
Summary: In the comic, Morpheus imprisons an old lover of his in Hell   
for spurning him. It would only be polite to stop and chat with the   
ruler of Hell before he leaves, wouldn't it?  
  
Disclaimer: The characters within belong to Neil Gaimen and DC comics,   
not me. I am making no money with this endeavor. Please don't hurt me.   
  
Warnings: Very slight homosexual content...er...sort of. If this offends   
you, please don't read on.   
  
*********  
  
Call it what you will, for there is no thing that has but one true   
name. The only place where the pure sweetness of pain has even been   
revealed, where suffering is not questioned, only accepted as another   
trailing river of torment that bled profusely from the denizens of this   
place.  
  
Deep within, past places of blood and bone, there were also places of   
rock, precariously balanced formations within a seemingly never-ending   
canyon. There, atop a butte in the middle of the glorious horror that   
was Hell, was Lucifer, lying on the cool stone with his eyes closed as   
he listened.   
  
The screams of the damned, hoarse dissonance of sound that was like a   
grotesque parody of the Heavenly Choirs, a shrill reminder of what was   
never to be heard by him again.   
  
He listened to every echoing tone, despite the pain the knowledge   
always brought him because even a thin shadow of what was once his was   
better than nothing at all.   
  
And if he weren't truly a masochist, he wouldn't be in Hell.   
  
There was no sound of approach from behind him, not so unusual in this   
place although the source of the silence was. He waited until he felt   
the presence at his back before he spoke, softly.   
  
"It is done, then?"  
  
"Yes." Lord Morpheus stepped closer, silent as the shadow that he did   
not possess. "I have imprisoned her," he said, his voice was as old   
black velvet and almost as touchable. He bowed to the figure sprawled   
across the rocks, politely, as was his way, cool as the wintry breezes   
that those in Hell never felt. "I thank you for your time."  
  
"I pity her, you know," he said, his voice raised slightly to catch the   
ear of one who was already turning away. "I cannot pity them," he   
gestured before him at the multitudes that were hidden beneath the lip   
of the precipice, the discordant harmony of their screams an accent to   
his idle words. "They only receive what it is that they want, and in   
abundance. But her, I may pity."  
  
He had angered the Dream King, although no sign of it could ever appear   
in his fathomless eyes. Rather, it was in the tightening of a fist, the   
writhing of the ragged edge of his cloak around his ankles, a shadow   
made into a living thing by his temper.  
  
"I warned her," said Morpheus, as calm as can be, with only his cloak   
still betraying him. He wrapped his arms in it and pulled it around   
himself, as if he were suddenly chilled, though there was never an icy   
chill in Hell, for coldness here burned like a flame. All the ice   
within the Infernos was only in the mind.   
  
"I'm not saying that you were wrong," Lucifer said smoothly, running   
the tip of a finger over the surface of the rock beneath him, testing   
the roughness of its texture. "You did warn her and she disobeyed you.   
Certainly you were within your rights. However," and he rolled over,   
tilting his head to watch the King of Dreams with darkly amused eyes.   
"That does not mean I cannot pity her. After all, I know how it feels   
to fall from grace, do I not?"  
  
"Yes, you do." Calm and neutral, just like the third eldest of the   
Endless. The prick. Faintly annoyed despite himself, Lucifer shifted   
onto his back, closing his eyes and the shrieks below reached a   
crescendo, peaking on the ecstatic song of the damned.   
  
Morpheus had turned away again, deigning not to speak as he slunk away   
to nurse his wounds of a love lost in private. That would never do.   
  
"Sit, and chat with me awhile," said Lucifer, lazily undulating across   
the cool stone surface beneath him.   
  
"My lord Lucifer, I cannot, I have duties..."  
  
"And I am doing you a favor. Courtesy demands that you do one for me as   
well." Polite as ever, with a touch of implicit threat in his lightly   
said words. Lucifer had not lost any of his power in his fall, and he   
did not wear his anger well.   
  
Morpheus was still, eyes of midnight studying the once-angel before he   
moved forward, only a touch of his reluctance visible. Lucifer could   
grant him that; no doubt Morpheus had better things to do rather than   
listening to one who was never quite a friend gabble on like a   
toothless old woman, though his reluctance was all Lucifer would grant.   
Morpheus had wanted a boon and so owed one in return. One could not   
break the Rules, such as they were. There were always worse things than   
residing in Hell.   
  
"Lovers lost, your pretty lady love and I have in common," he said   
teasingly, as Morpheus sat next to him on the stone, spine stiff and   
looking glass-brittle. The Dream King said nothing and then Lucifer   
said, softly, "Do you think I'll ever see him again?" He allowed a   
trace of wistfulness to enter his voice, one that no one else, dead or   
alive, would have been allowed to hear. Morpheus would keep this secret   
as he kept all things he knew close to him, hording them greedily. So   
few had ever been allowed close enough to touch him, and none close   
enough to know him.   
  
This, Lucifer knew, as he also knew that the young suicide who was   
imprisoned within the cliffs surrounding Weep-not had come closer than   
anyone, and that her memory of his touch would be as cold as ice. She   
would burn here in Hell with the chill remembrance of his love.  
  
Morpheus moved to clasp pale-fingered hands in his lap as he spoke.   
"Perhaps. I do not know the future, Morningstar."  
  
"Morningstar," Lucifer breathed, tasting the name on his own thin lips.  
"Yes, that was my name," he said distantly, an illusion of uncaring   
that would not have fooled a child. "I've not heard it in a long time.   
Shall I thank you or hate you for reminding me of that name?"  
  
"You must do as you see fit."  
  
He laughed then, bitterly. He still allowed himself bitterness   
sometimes, as well as the cold, sweet thought of revenge. "Ah, I did   
that once, and I landed here." He rubbed a bare foot across the rock,   
his toes barely brushing the edge of Morpheus' cloak. "Ever his pawn,   
even now. I must always be moved across the chessboard at the order of   
the King, mustn't I?"  
  
"If you must."  
  
"If I must..." Lucifer mused, thinking, before he shook his head. "And   
what of you, my sweet Dream king, if I am a pawn, then what does that   
make you?"  
  
"I am not controlled by your Creator," said Morpheus.   
  
"No? No, of course you are not. We are all controlled by our own   
Creators, to be done with as they wish and if I am a pawn to be   
sacrificed at the whims of my king, so that he may win the game, then   
you are a toy. What shall you do, I wonder, when the children outgrow   
their playthings?"  
  
"There are always other children in need of a toy."  
  
Sweet laughter, the bell-like tones of one who was once an angel, yet   
even in his laughter there was a taint; lost innocence dimmed the   
resonance of his music until the harsh discord of the shrieks behind   
him disguised it as a scream.  
  
"Well said!" said Lucifer, a smile still curving his lips. It faded   
slightly as he shook his head, saying, "No. I'll never see him again.   
Were this universe to blink out of existence tomorrow or a millennia   
from now, I will vanish from this plane without ever having seen him   
again. My punishment for the rest of eternity, to exist with him   
outside my sight." His smile shifted, into a jaded, cynical mask that   
should never be worn by an angel, and was not now. "But then, I can   
always dream, can't I?"  
  
Leaning forward, he kissed cool, pale lips, skimmed over the curious   
softness and let the tip of his tongue brush over dry skin, dampening   
it before he deepened the kiss further, sampling the mouth that   
belonged to the worn-velvet voice. An eternal moment, in which he   
tasted the faintest echo of something he'd been missing for ten billion   
years, the last thing he'd known before he fell, the gentle touch of   
his Creator's lips.   
  
He pulled away quickly, lolling back onto the rock as he ran his tongue   
over his lips, searching for the ghost of that elusive taste. Glancing   
up at his guest, he saw widened, bottomless eyes gazing back at him and   
he realized with some amusement that he had surprised Morpheus.  
  
Reaching up, he cupped a petal-soft cheek in his hand, Morpheus' pale   
skin a stark contrast to his own. "You are as I see you, as I wish to   
see you, my Dream..." he murmured, moving to kiss him again but Morpheus   
spoke, giving him pause.  
  
"No," he said quietly. "I am as you see me and always will be, this is   
true, but I cannot be something I am not."  
  
He gave the third eldest of the Endless a long look and then released   
him abruptly, moving away as if the touch of his skin burned.   
  
"No, you cannot."  
  
He stood, walking to the edge of the cliff where all of Hell was laid   
out before him, the inferno that burned with his own hatred mingling   
with the acrid scent of brimstone. A parting gift, in its way, a   
darkened mirror of a place that he would never see again in this   
existence and he gazed upon it with bitterness seeping blackly through   
his heart, where once there was only the purity of love. Still, it was   
a gift. A token from his lover and Lucifer clutched it to him as one   
would a withered flower.   
  
"I pity her, Morpheus," he said, gazing at the horror that represented   
what remained of his love. "But I envy her as well. Some day, a   
thousand years from now, a hundred thousand, you will forgive her. You   
will come to her and release her, and she will see her lover again. I   
envy her that." He ducked his head down, closing his eyes and smiling   
with the gentle childishness of innocence, and the faintest touch of   
the hope that he had never lost. "But perhaps I will see my lover   
again, as she will. We have so much in common. Both of our lovers sent   
us to Hell."  
  
"Pity her, if you must, Lord Lucifer, for whatever reasons you wish,   
for the little things you may have in common. And I may pity your   
Creator for the same reasons."  
  
He looked down into the recesses of Hell, a sight that would have   
driven a mortal insane, but to him it was merely a grim reminder of a   
lack of beauty. His hands were behind his back and they tightened to a   
white knuckled grip as he looked out over his domain. The silence   
between them stretched until Lucifer spoke again, curtly, "Thank you   
for staying to talk, Lord Morpheus. It was a pleasure."   
  
A dismissal. When he turned again, Dream of the Endless was gone.   
Still, Lucifer was certain that he would see him again, although   
perhaps not soon.   
  
He closed his eyes again and listened as the chorus swelled, the   
screams of the damned mingling within his memories of Heaven. Morpheus   
would return to his home and mourn the loss of his love, raze the   
Dreaming as it reflected its Master's suffering and turmoil, as those   
in Hell voiced the screams that its ruler could not.   
  
Shivering slightly, Lucifer wrapped his arms around himself, as if   
Morpheus' had created a chill in the vacuum of his absence. An eternity   
of waiting was all he had left to him. An eternity lost within the   
sweetness of pained screams, and the frailty of his dreams.   
  
-finis-  
  



End file.
